


Ultimate Party Planning Guide (Festive Edition)

by spideysmjs



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Holiday Shopping, It's Ridiculous, Michelle's a Softie I Don't Make the Rules, Office Holiday Party, SO MUCH FLUFF, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:13:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21941956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spideysmjs/pseuds/spideysmjs
Summary: “So, the office party,” she changes the subject.Peter keeps his smirk. “Right.” He clasps his hands together. “I have an Ultimate Party Planning Guide.”It's Michelle's first ever holiday party at the office, and she's assigned to plan it with her cubicle neighbor and ugly holiday sweater connoisseur, Peter Parker.
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Comments: 25
Kudos: 88





	Ultimate Party Planning Guide (Festive Edition)

**Author's Note:**

> Happy holidays! The fluff in this is ridiculous. But it's basically just Peter and Michelle looking at each other, honestly.
> 
> I didn't proofread. I'm not sorry... 
> 
> Enjoy!

_1\. Accidentally Volunteer for a Party Planning Committee_

It’s a day like any other. 

Michelle’s clacking away at her keyboard, working on a newsletter to send out to an audience of very few in hopes to gain new donations for their organization. She’d been working there only since September, hired on the spot due to her experience in writing.

She’s in charge of funding requests, so they could keep their nonprofit for assisting homeless shelters in Queens up and running through sponsorships and donations. And since it’s the holiday season, a significant amount of people are more kind hearted and willing to give back to the community. 

Work is great. Michelle feels purposeful and elated, but, as she sends her mass email to their most loyal volunteers and almost right on cue, Peter Parker strides in with his way-too-upbeat morning attitude that never fails to amuse her every day. And today, being like any other, Peter’s wearing a bright red wool sweater attached with multi-colored Christmas lights and bells that jingle with every swift movement he makes.

“It’s officially the holiday season!” he says, taking refuge at the cubicle across from Michelle. She makes no effort to respond, except for one small curve of her lips before she continues her work.

It’s December 1st, and she’s not sure if she can take 15 more days of holiday clothing and something in her knows Peter has one for every day leading up to their holiday party. 

Michelle’s not much of a Christmas person. The spirit that’s intended to boost the love around the air, in her opinion, has transformed into a capitalistic nightmare that pushes people to fight with one another at shopping malls to find sales on anything that they can find. 

There’s pressure in gift-giving, a pressure that stresses out Michelle beyond compare even if she only has her mother, baby sister, and her roommate Cindy to please. 

Peter’s sweater bells jingle as he answers phone calls. He probably has a village of folks to give presents to, someone with so much glee that they can take over the North Pole has to have a support system of thousands. And the thought of needing to purchase a gift for all of Peter Parker’s friends and family stresses Michelle out even more, and she barely cares for the guy in the first place.

She looks across from her again, watching Peter chuckle with their co-worker, Felicia, not once stopping writing up whatever email or grant he has piled up on his schedule. Though she has the heart to work at the job that she does, Michelle’s social meter is nowhere near as high as his. She watches Felicia graze his shoulder, Michelle holding back a giggle from how ridiculously charmed everyone is by Peter. 

  
  
  
  


“Happy Monday everyone!” their boss, Mr. Roberts, greets the team at their weekly meeting right before the end of the work period. “As you know, the holiday season is our busiest time of year, so keep up the good work you all have been putting in.”

His assistant, Gwen, records every single word he says on her running Google Document of meeting notes, Michelle already knowing she’d have to read through pages of dialogue before finding action items or important details. There may be such a thing as doing too good of a job.

The meeting was a meeting like any other, except at the end Mr. Roberts announced their holiday party, Michelle debating on whether or not she’d actually show up because she’s the only new employee from the entire year, and she’s certain most of her colleagues don’t like her very much because of her default silence and hasty clock out methods, never taking up the opportunity to join them in happy hour. It’s just difficult for Michelle to break down her walls and connect with others - it has been since she was young, with the weighted fear that anyone she comes close to will eventually leave. 

Everything is temporary, and everything has been since she’d known it. There has never been a moment in her life where Michelle has felt like things can last long term, and it’s best to not have people be invested in her (or vice versa) if it doesn’t last.

When Mr. Roberts voice pulls her away from thoughts, she realizes she has been staring at Peter, whose eyes have turned wide, staring directly back at her. 

“Yes?” she asked, hoping that whatever Roberts had been going on about wasn’t too off kilter for her to catch up with it. 

“I told her about the tradition a couple days ago,” Peter saves her from embarrassment as he answers their boss. “Party planning is in my niche and all, and I can never shut up about my excitement about the holiday party thing.”

“Well since you’re already talking about it amongst yourselves, how about you be the two be in the committee? Saves me from deciding. And it’s a good opportunity for Jones to get acquainted in office.”

Michelle’s eyes widen at the prospect, but she masks an overdone smile to avoid disappointing her boss. “That sounds great.”

“Cool,” Peter mumbles, drumming his fingers against the conference table. The remainder of the team is quiet, even the sound of Gwen’s typing has ceased. She stares directly at Michelle. It makes her feel uneasy. 

“It’s settled, then. It’ll be next Friday. Pick a theme, decorations and food will be reimbursed. You know the drill, Parker.” Mr. Roberts nods at him. “Meet adjourned.” 

  
  
  
  


She sips on the salted caramel hot chocolate that Cindy specializes in making - it’s one of the few aspects of the -ber months that she’s shamelessly a fan of. “I can’t believe I got myself into this.” 

“Well if you weren’t such a Grinch,” Cindy laughs, “you wouldn’t be so upset.”

“I’m not a Grinch,” Michelle frowns, “I love helping people. I just don’t like... Christmas. And on top of that, I have to plan the party with Peter.”

“Peter...” Cindy ponders. “Is he the co-worker we ran into when we met for lunch a couple weeks ago?”

"Yeah.”

“He’s cute.”

“Please.”

“You don’t think so?” Cindy inches closer to Michelle on the couch.

Michelle gives herself a second to ponder, never having really focused on Peter’s face - his loud personality overtaking his entire being. “He’s just...” She waves her free hand around, trying to describe him. “Too excited about everything?”

“And you say you’re not a Grinch?” Cindy snorts. 

Michelle nudges her. 

  
  


  1. _Overuse Your Work Emails to Schedule a Meeting_



When Peter clocks in late, as usual, Michelle makes it a point to don on her noise-canceling headphones as she writes thank you letters to their sponsors because all of yesterday, Peter played his Christmas music aloud.

“Do you never get tired of the same songs over and over again?” she asked, a headache forming from the fifth version of “Last Christmas” playing from his speakers.

“Not really!” he grins. “But if you want to, I can turn it off.” 

She nodded, and he obliged, apologizing three more times before Michelle tells him to stop apologizing. He blushes, returning to his computer. The silence lasted for about ten minutes until Mr. Roberts walked in and asked what happened to the seasonal music. 

“It’s okay,” she told Peter – who double-checked if she’s okay with it. “I’ll bring my headphones tomorrow.” 

She adjusts the headphones so it’s not too snug on her head. Ten minutes into his entrance, Michelle peers through the tinsel and garland dressed atop of their cubicle divider. Peter’s outfit today isn’t as festive, as in, there’s no bells or lights but still a Star Wars-themed holiday sweater with Darth Vader patterns.

She wonders how much money Peter’s spent on such a ridiculous tradition and if he really owns a sweater for every day leading up to Christmas. And if she has enough energy to not just be around such a big ball of sunshine, but to spend extra hours interacting with him to plan an office party for a holiday she doesn’t care for. 

Michelle, having realized she’s been staring at Peter for a beat too long, reverts her eyes back to her desktop only to see an email from the sunshine man himself.

_To: Michelle Jones  
_ _From: Peter Parker_

_Subject: Meeting for December 12th Planning_

_Hello Michelle,_

_Hope this email finds you well. As per the last meeting, we are to organize the next team bonding together. When is the best time for you to chat?_

_Best,  
_ _Peter Parker_

  
  


She lets out a chuckle, sneaking another glance at Peter, whose eyes are on her, probably anticipating a reaction since the moment he sent it. She shakes her head at him, catching him wink at her. It’s ridiculous how excited he is about this whole thing. 

  
  


_To: Peter Parker  
_ _From: Michelle Jones_

_Subject: RE: Meeting for December 12th Planning_

_Hi Peter,_

_I have many tasks to take on today, but my schedule can open tomorrow to discuss this matter. We can schedule a meeting at 3pm._

_From,  
_ _Michelle Jones_

  
  


_To: Michelle Jones  
_ _From: Peter Parker_

_Subject: RE: RE: Meeting for December 12th Planning_

  
  


_Dearest Michelle,_

_Unfortunately, I am unavailable tomorrow at 3pm. May I suggest a meeting over coffee at lunch?_

_From,  
_ _Peter Parker_

  
  


The professional emailing joke brightened her mood, but now Michelle’s less keen on scheduling lunch with Peter, never having had to talk to him for more than 20 minutes when it came to personal things. But, since they’d be discussing the office party, maybe Michelle didn’t have to make many conversations about anything outside of it. It wouldn’t be too bad, Michelle thinking about having to control herself from accidentally oversharing anything and freaking him out - as she does when attempting to get close to others.

It’s the reason why she hasn’t had the best of luck with dating, which Michelle honestly couldn’t care less about — her family and Cindy being more insistent on her finding someone than herself. 

  
  


_To: Michelle Jones  
_ _From: Peter Parker_

_Subject: Lunch Meeting Invitation_

  
  


_Hello Michelle,_

_Lunch Invitation:_

_Coffee and a Meeting_

_Today @ 12 PM - 1 PM_

_**Accept** or **Decline** _

_From,  
_ _Peter Parker_

  
  


Michelle accepts it. Peter’s smile brightens.

  
  


  1. _Spend the Lunch Hour Planning How to Plan the Party_



Michelle feels someone tap her shoulder. She slips off her headphones to look at Peter, his face painted with eagerness and excitement – as per usual. 

“Ready?” he asks. 

“12 already?” she purses her lips, itching to continue working rather than talking about catering and decorations. Peter nods. She lifts herself from her cubicle, stretching before grabbing her purse and heading out the door with Peter. A part of her is nervous, fixating on the fact that next to Peter, the Walking Christmas Tree, her black coat and pants make her look like a lump of coal. 

Once they’re out of the office, the brisk winter breeze sends shivers down Michelle’s spine, regretting to bring extra gloves to work because of her initial refusal to believe the temperature is actually dropping. Her exhales are visible in the crisp air. 

“What are we doing?” she asks. 

Peter shrugs, putting his hands in his pockets, Michelle wondering why he isn’t damn near freezing to death without a jacket or gloves. “What did you want for lunch?”

“I thought we were getting coffee.”

“So you _do_ know what we’re doing?” 

“You know what I mean,” she rolls her eyes. 

“We can go to this diner that I like,” he offers. “They have good coffee.” Michelle agrees and follows Peter as he leads the way, walking a little faster than she is. His stride is naturally confident – his back swaying slightly with each step. She tilts her head watching him move, never noticing Peter’s defined build until now. His Star Wars sweater is snug around the arms, and loose near his waist. 

Michelle thinks back to Cindy’s comment from the night before, cursing her below her breath because now she knows she won’t stop thinking about it for the entire hour. 

“What’s up?” Peter asks when he finally slows down.

“What?” 

“You look concerned at me,” he laughs.

“Nothing,” she sputters. “Aren’t you cold?” 

“Eh,” he turns the corner, motioning her to follow. “It’s a thick sweater. And I’m always warm. See?” He holds out his hand in front of her for her to touch, Michelle wishing her hands weren’t cold and clammy as she’s about to touch Peter’s. “Damn, your hands are cold.” 

“I get cold easily,” she feels herself shake in her triple layers. Peter takes his other hand and holds Michelle’s in his, adding pressure to his touch.

“I’ll just transfer my warmth,” he says before letting go. Her heart races. 

Dammit, Cindy. 

But even if he has the warmest touch that lingers a little bit after letting go, Peter’s still too energetic and festive, and Michelle’s still reluctant to talk about the damn party. 

They sit across from each other at the diner. She watches Peter intently scanning the menu, almost forgetting she had to find an order, too. “What’s good here?” 

He sets his menu down and smiles. “Everything.”

“Do you know what you’re getting?” 

“Always.”

“Why do you read the menu, then?”

“It’s a formality, isn’t it?” he laughs. The waitress, who looks about twice their age, comes back with a notepad and a less than pleased face.

“I’m Vivian,” she chomps on gum, “Anything to drink?” 

“Hi, Vivian. How are you?” Peter smiles. 

“I’m alright.” 

“We’d love two coffees, please.” 

“Cream and sugar?” 

“Yes–”

“No–” 

They say at the same time until Peter adds, “Just on the side is fine, ma’am.” Michelle giggles.

“Ready to order?” 

“Actually, we’ll need a couple minutes, please.” 

“Alright,” she stalks off, Michelle unbelievably shocked at how patient and kind Peter remains, despite the waitress not matching the same upbeat attitude as him, knowing that if she was in his shoes, she’d cut the perkiness of her voice by 75% to not embarrass herself. 

“I was ready to order.” 

“Why didn’t you say so!” he huffs, jokingly. 

“Your incredibly upbeat attitude is distracting.” 

“Glad to know I distract you.”

“It’s your damn holiday sweaters.” 

“Still,” he smirks. Ridiculous. 

“So, the office party,” she changes the subject. 

Peter keeps his smirk. “Right.” He clasps his hands together. “I have an Ultimate Party Planning Guide.”

Of course, he does. “Right.” 

“Step one: volunteer to plan the holiday party. Step two: have a few meetings about it. Step three: Purchase all decorations. Step four: Order the catering. Step five: make the decorations–”

“We’re _making_ decorations?” she holds her tongue back from groaning.

“Yup,” he smiles. “Tradition.” 

“Does Mr. Roberts pick two different people every year?” 

“He says he does, but he never has to,” he leans forward to whisper, “I’ve volunteered the past two years.” 

“I’m not surprised.” 

“It’s usually me and Gwen,” he adds, leaning back. Somehow, the mention of their shared co-worker makes her feel uneasy thinking about the way Gwen had stared at Michelle when Mr. Roberts finalized the committee for the year, finally receiving an explanation behind the daggers.

“Gwen can take my job,” she blurts out. He tilts his head. “If she volunteers every year, I’m probably taking away that opportunity from her.” 

"I’m sure it’s not killing her,” he says. Michelle could beg to differ, but she doesn’t say anything. Vivian returns with their coffees and a plate of creamer and sugar. She pushes for their orders, and they’ve both decided on patty melts, Michelle repeating Peter’s order because, dammit, she still didn’t look at the menu. 

“So,” she sips on her coffee. Black, no sugar. “Step six?”

“Ah, right,” Peter grips his mug. Four creamers, two sugar packets. “Step six: set up the office late at night, so we’re not rushing in the morning. Step seven: Pick up catering. Step eight: Enjoy the party.” 

“Sounds like a lot of work,” Michelle sighs. “Christmas isn’t even my...thing.” 

“I could tell.” 

“Could you now?” she raises her eyebrow. “Was the all-black outfit a tell?” 

“That, and the fact that your cubicle is the only part of the office that isn’t decorated.” A beat. “I’m sorry if you feel forced to do this.” 

For the first time since their lunch break (or ever, Michelle thinks), Peter’s joyful aura deflates. He stares at the steam rising from his coffee mug. 

“You really care about the holiday party, don’t you?” 

“Yeah,” he breathes, looking at her again. “I never really get to plan any holiday get-togethers anymore.” 

The last word he speaks hurts her, feeling as if she’s learned more about Peter within this hour than the entire time she’s started working with him. It’s a word she can relate to because her Christmas Eves and Christmas Days have been lonely ever since her father left her, her mother, and her sister several years ago. His entire family left with him. 

But it’s okay. Because her mother and sister is all she needs. 

“Me too,” she reveals, not knowing why she’s comfortable with sharing that bit of her life – the bit that not even Cindy knows about. “My Christmases have always been small. Mom, sister, me.” 

“Aunt and me,” he smiles, this time softer than his cheesy grins with more sympathy than joy. She doesn’t ask for more information, only watching his eyes soften at the thought of his aunt. 

“I don’t feel forced to do this,” Michelle says. Though she had felt forced before, knowing that Peter’s putting a lot of himself to the party because it’s the one big thing he has, makes her want to do this. 

For the spirit of Christmas, of course. 

“Cool,” he releases a tension Michelle didn’t notice until he cracked his knuckles and let out a deep breath. The waitress comes back with their sandwiches, and Michelle's surprise, they finish their meals in silence. It’s comfortable, and she’s almost forgotten that they’d never interacted that much before. “Oh, and a theme.” 

“Hm?” she has a mouth full of patty. 

“Roberts always wants a theme. Last year was superheroes. Year before, California Christmas.” 

“Nice,” she replies. “I’m not very good at picking themes. Maybe not Star Wars.” 

“Damn, I was hoping you wouldn’t say that,” he presses his palm over the Darth Vader pattern on his sweater. 

“Any theme we think of will make the entire office look cheesy,” she snorts. 

“Let’s just go overboard with it, then. Ugly sweaters, too many decorations, a cheesy script to match.” 

“We can have a Hallmark movie projecting in the background.” 

“I’m all for it,” he laughs. “Those movies are pretty good, you know.” 

“Never watched one,” she deadpans. 

“Seriously? Are you the Grinch?” 

“That’s what my roommate calls me.” 

“Well, your roommate is right. We’ll watch one when we make decorations,” he adds. “I’ll do my best to make you fall in love with Christmas.” 

“Impossible,” she wipes her greasy mouth with a napkin. 

“Try me.”

  1. _Schedule Another Meeting, This Time Over Drinks (of the Alcoholic Variety)_



  
They didn’t do much planning over lunch, but a part of Michelle doesn’t mind because she’s looking forward to seeing Peter again. 

To plan the party, no other reason. 

Somehow, he reads her mind because once 5pm strikes, he’s tapping her shoulder again. This time, she had no headphones to ignore the endless stream of Christmas music coming from Peter’s desktop. It’s kind of catchy, and Ariana Grande claiming independence by tell Santa Claus to back off in setting her up with trash men is a nice winter message. 

“We should plan another meeting,” he suggests. “I realize, we didn’t decide on anything at all.” 

There’s not much to _decide_ on a Cliche Christmas Themed Party, but she doesn’t bring that up because Peter asked her to go to Happy Holidays Hour at his favorite bar, and Michelle can’t say no to that offer since he’s insistent on making her fall in love with Christmas. 

It’s a happy hour like any other. Except she’s sitting next to Peter on the countertop after being encouraged to order a holiday-themed cocktail instead of her usual Mai Tai (because he offered to pay for the first round of drinks).

She decides on a mixture of vodka, kahlua, and creamer. It’s strong, but sweet. 

“I love this one,” he comments, sipping on Peppermint Schnapps, half and half, and chocolate syrup. “Want to try it?” 

He lifts his drink to her, Michelle leaning down to get a taste of the minty chocolate. “It tastes like Christmas.”

“I think that’s the point,” Peter salutes her for the obvious observation. She offers her drink in return. He winces at the taste. “That’s strong.” 

“I think that’s the point,” she returns. 

In all honesty, she doesn’t know why she’s gone for drinks with Peter, and she’s certain he doesn’t know either. Both of them, although having agreed to discuss the matters of the office party, have not once mentioned it since entering the bar. 

“Does our Holiday Party have drinks of the alcoholic variety?” she’s almost reluctant to ask.

Peter blinks, eyes open wide, teasing her. “How dare you ask about alcohol!” 

“I didn’t, I mean I was just–” she stutters, feeling the slosh of vodka in her stomach. She probably should have eaten something before drinking. 

“Of _course_ there’s alcohol,” he laughs, “and if Mr. Roberts offers you a raise – just know he won’t remember the next morning.” 

“This is going to be interesting,” she snorts. 

“Right,” Peter says, “I forget you’ve just joined the team. Feels like you’ve been around for so long now.” 

“Sure.”

“I’m serious!” he defends himself. “Life wouldn’t be complete without Michelle Jones and her all black business outfits.” 

She nearly blushes at his observation. His ears look red, Michelle hoping (and half not-hoping) it’s due to his rising alcohol levels. 

“Not that I catalog your outfits.” She purses her lips. “I don’t!”

“I believe you.” 

“And you stare at me, too.” 

“Have you _seen_ your sweaters?” she retorts, trying to mask a smile, biting the inside of her lip. 

“Every morning when I look in the mirror,” he clinks their glasses together, encouraging them to finish the last sip before the next round. 

“So do you have one for every day of this month?” 

“Not every day,” he laughs. “I spread them out, I swear. But May and I always pick matching ones, so I have my share of sweaters.” 

“May?” she questions. 

“Aunt,” he grabs the attention of the bartender. _Aunt and me,_ his explanation rings in her head. They pick their next drinks before Michelle talks again.

“When did this tradition start?” 

He thinks about the answer. It must have been an old tradition. 

“When I was fifteen.” She’s right. “My Uncle always wore this one ridiculous sweater every December 1st, and May thought it was a touch too cheesy. Kinda like you.” 

Her heart races. He continues, “but the first December 1st without him, she wore it the entire day.” It’s silent between them, the conversations of other customers being tuned out by the heavy feeling around Peter. A beat. And another. “So I bought one that year, too. And every year after that.” 

Something comes over her, one hand grabbing Peter’s. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he squeezes her hand, and doesn’t move. “Do you have any traditions?” 

The bartender distributes their respective cocktails. This time, her signature Mai Tai and a draft beer for Peter. She thinks about her past Christmases, all of them blending into one mundane experience: opening presents, eating her mom’s famous ham and whatever sides her sister experiments on, and falling asleep to Harry Potter on the TV.

“We always marathon Harry Potter,” she says, unable to stop the sadness in her eyes. “But that’s not really a Christmas thing.”

Peter notices because he squeezes her hand again, Michelle only realizing then that they had never let go the first time. “It’s still a nice tradition.” 

She finally slips her hands away, feeling too exposed to Peter, like she’s said too much and it’ll make him uncomfortable if she keeps talking. Michelle lifts her glass of Mai Tai in the air. He mirrors her movements with his beer. 

It’s their (Peter’s) fourth round of drinks. Michelle’s already too buzzed for her comfort, refusing to take another sip of alcohol and accidentally make a fool of herself in front of Peter. She’s eased up to him, and though he’s a big ball of sunshine, Peter’s not as in your face as Michelle thought he’d be when Roberts first paired them as party planners. 

“Round four?” she teases. “I didn’t know you were an avid drinker.” 

“I guess there’s a lot of things you don’t know,” he slurs his words, but he’s cute and a bit flirtatious. It’s the alcohol, most definitely. 

“Tell me more, Parker,” she teases. Michelle doesn’t know what she’s doing or why she’s doing it, but the way Peter’s eyes crinkle as she addresses him by his last name as if it’s a term of endearment makes her want to see it over and over again.

“Christmas isn’t actually my favorite holiday,” he whispers. She can smell the distinct scent of alcohol radiating from his mouth. 

“Gasp,” she fakes wide eyes, though she is truthfully a little surprised. “I feel slightly betrayed.”

“I’m sorry,” he shrugs, sipping the last of his beer.

“And to think I was starting to fall in love,” she hmphs and adds, “with the holiday.” 

He pauses. “Well, I already feel accomplished because that’s more than I thought you would care for it.”

“This,” she points at his sweater, “is false advertisement.” 

“You can definitely love more than one holiday.” 

“If you’re you.”

“And I’m lucky that I am.” His eyes are glistening with a mix of drunkenness, Michelle struggling to look away from the endearing look of a boyish-looking man wearing a nerdy sweater, nearly drunk out of his mind. 

“I’m cutting you off,” she scoots herself out of the bar stool, patting down her slacks. She offers a hand to help him get out of his seat, well-aware that he’s capable of lifting himself out. His hands feel warm, and Michelle fights the desire to intertwine their fingers. She ignores the electrifying pulse in her body at their skin contact and drops Peter’s hand almost immediately after he gets up. 

When they’re out of the bar, Michelle heads to the direction of her apartment. “Let me walk you home?” 

She turns around to Peter, who hasn’t moved an inch from the entrance of the bar. “I can walk by myself.” 

“You’re drunk,” he reminds her.

“So are you.”

“Two drunks are better than one?” he tries, stepping toward her.

“But no one will walk _you_ home,” she moves closer to Peter, a moth to a flame. 

“I can manage,” he insists. “It’s late.”

“Okay,” she accepts, a bit pleased that he’s courteous enough to see her home, not wanting her to get hurt in the twenty minute commute. “But you’ll have to talk to me on your entire way home so I know you’re safe.” 

“Promise.” 

  
  


Their journey to Michelle’s apartment is mostly silent, save for Peter talking about other traditions he’d have with his family, before his uncle passed away. Aunt May and Uncle Ben would always team up in the kitchen to make the best Christmas feast, and the prep would take all day, and Ben did most of the cooking. 

“Aunt May isn’t the best chef,” he adds, a horrified look on his face. Apparently, the year after his uncle passed – the same year the sweater tradition began – May couldn’t bring herself to even try to cook, mostly because she didn’t know how. 

“I’ve tried to learn more cooking stuff since then.” 

Every bone in Peter Parker’s body is filled with goodness and love. It’s unreal, Michelle becoming envious of how unconditionally kind he is and feeling soft at all his anecdotes about his Aunt May and the way he talks about her like she’s his entire world.

They reach the front of her apartment building. “This is me.” 

“Great,” he says. “Thanks for letting me walk you home.” 

“Thanks for walking me home.” 

They face each other for what feels like another half hour to Michelle. “I should get going.” Peter starts to walk away, until she remembers his promise. 

“You have to talk to me the entire way back!” she calls out, Peter turning around, nearly tripping over his own feet. 

“I don’t have your number,” he pulls out his phone, handing it to her. She focuses on the bright screen, hoping her buzz didn’t mess up the number she dialed. “I’ll text you.” 

“Okay.”

He first walks backwards, then turns around as he reaches the end of the sidewalk. Michelle watches Peter until his body turns a corner.

**Peter:** I’m still alive

 **Michelle:** That’s wonderful.

 **Peter:** You make it to your apartment door?

 **Michelle:** Yes, yes I did. 

**Peter:** Thanks for tonight

 **Michelle:** What are co-party planners for?

 **Peter:** We didn’t plan much. We’ll try again tomorrow. :-)

 **Michelle:** Okay, but no more alcoholic drinks.

 **Peter:** Damn. 

  1. _Go Decoration Shopping with Your Co-Worker_



The weekend comes around swiftly, and since exchanging numbers, Michelle and Peter text each other from clocking out to falling asleep. Seeing his name light up on her phone makes Michelle’s stomach do twists, forming an uncontrollable smile she can’t even bother to hide. 

Cindy notices it Friday night when they’re at dinner, Michelle smiling at her buzzing phone.

“Alright, that’s it,” she drops her fork, clasping her hands on their table, “who have you been talking to that’s making you smile like that?”

“What?” Michelle blinks.

Cindy rolls her eyes, picking back her fork as she digs through her lo mein. “You’ve seriously been texting whoever nonstop and you’re not telling me anything!”

“Oh.” Michelle wipes her mouth. “It’s just Peter.” 

Her roommate looks taken aback, hand placed on chest. “The same Peter you were reluctant to work on the Christmas party with?” 

“Maybe,” Michelle feels her skin turn hot, gut churning with nerves. “He’s just really sweet.” 

“And too excited about everything?” Cindy puts in quotes, teasing Michelle. She tosses a napkin to Cindy’s face. 

“Whatever,” Michelle shakes her head. “You’re right! Is that want you wanted to hear?” 

“And you say you’re always right,” she scoffs in a tone so endearing that it’s hard for Michelle to be agitated at Cindy’s prying. It’s the reason why they’ve gotten along this far. 

Her phone buzzes again, Cindy’s lips pursed at Michelle. Dammit, Cindy. 

**Peter:** So tomorrow, we can look for decorations?

 **Michelle:** On the weekend? Do things for work? I’m not convinced. 

**Peter:** I’ll make it up to you with dinner. :-)

 **Michelle:** Well, only for the dinner then. 

It’s definitely not just for the dinner. 

The following afternoon, Michelle puts on her most comfortable shopping outfit, consisting of sweats and a turtleneck, and a puffy coat to ensure warmth. She lets her hair fall out, different to her bunned hair-do for work.

She’s supposed to meet Peter at a bargain Christmas store a couple blocks away from her apartment, the space always changing depending on the holiday. Michelle remembers purchasing her cheap Halloween costume there three months ago.

When she gets to the place, Peter’s leaning against the glass window by the entrance, waiting. He’s not wearing a holiday sweater, his comfortable outfit similar to Michelle’s. 

“Hey,” he lifts himself from the window, grinning as he greets her. His face is rosy from the winter breeze, his nose almost looking like Rudolph’s. He shifts awkwardly with the greeting, arm lifting up then down as if he’s reluctant to touch Michelle. She wouldn’t be surprised if he’s a hugger. 

“So let’s do this thing,” she clasps her gloved hands together. Their hands reach for the door at the same time, and they both chuckle. Though they’ve spent a significant amount of time within the past week together outside of working hours, there’s something different about today. 

Something different about Peter. He looks nervous, and in return, she feels the same. All the time they’ve spent during lunch, after work, or texting back and forth have not prepared Michelle to spend a Saturday afternoon with Peter Parker. 

He has a handful of canvas bags, commenting on how he didn’t want to waste any plastic when looking for decorations. Peter cares about the environment. She files that thought away, pushing it so far into her brain so she won’t have to think about it again. 

For the most part, she watches Peter pick up random items and toss it into the cart. She really doesn’t need to be there – he looks like he knows what he’s doing. And they haven’t exchanged many words with one another, their silence surprisingly comfortable as she listens to the sound of Christmas music playing through busted speakers in the store. 

“Should have brought your headphones,” he laughs, referencing the way Let It Snow is playing. 

Michelle shrugs. “Music’s not too bad.” 

He widens his eyes, looking pleased with himself. “I feel accomplished.” 

“It’s _tolerable_ ,” she corrects herself. “It’s starting to sound like white noise when I’m around you.” Silence. “I mean–”

“Me too,” he looks away from the candy cane decorations he’s holding in his hands, eyes tinted with a new look that Michelle’s never seen, a look she wants to see more. But she thinks it’s just kindness and comfort, considering the overtime they’ve spent with one another. 

Peter’s personable, and this is how he is with everyone. 

Though, a sliver of her hopes otherwise. 

“We definitely need this,” Peter snaps Michelle out of her ridiculous thoughts as he holds a DIY “Pin the Red Nose on Rudolph” kit. She snorts. 

“Whatever you want, Parker.” 

“It’s not cheesy Christmas without it. Did you send the mass email saying there’s an ugly sweater competition?” 

“I did.” She chuckles, remembering the first to respond was Peter himself. 

_To: Michelle Jones_ _  
_ _From: Peter Parker_ _  
_ _Subject: RE: Ugly Sweater Competition_

_Hey Michelle,_

_Thanks for the info. Looks like the team bonding planning has come along well. Who’s your partner, seems to be organized and swell to work with._

_Best,_ _  
_ _Peter Parker_ _  
  
_

She didn’t reply, an action he couldn’t let go for the entire day. “It’s unprofessional to not reply to your co-worker.” 

“You’re ridiculous.” 

“Still have to work with me for another week,” he joked as they clocked out that evening. 

And now, as she watches Peter, who’s dressed in extra excitement when selecting the party favors and decorations that included all holidays during the winter season, Michelle hopes the next week will feel longer than the one that’s just passed by. 

She enjoys spending time with Peter, realizing that after the holiday party, there’s really no excuse to see each other anymore. Michelle’s opened up to him in ways that she’s never even opened up to Cindy before, Peter making it easy to be vulnerable. Maybe because he’s like an open book himself, inviting others in conversations that don’t include small talk. 

“Anything else?” he nudges her. 

She nudges back. “I’m not very good at picking.” 

His eyes widen, looking at something from across the room. He pushes the cart swiftly to that same direction, grabbing a larger box of what looks to be another DIY kit. 

“A balloon arch,” she reads. “Peter, you can’t be serious. Do you know how to make one?” 

“It’ll be easy!” he says. “It’s like a boss challenge in a video game. The last thing we’ll have to do.” 

“Peter,” she stresses, nervous because her creativity is limited to painting and sketching – not balloon-arch-making. He throws the kit into the cart. 

“I think we have everything,” he rubs his chiseled chin. 

“I think we had everything five items ago,” she waves at the cart that’s halfway full. 

“It’ll be the best party ever,” he says in awe of their items. 

At the checkout, Michelle realizes she really doesn’t want the day to end yet, thinking of different tasks that need to be done. The cashier tends to Peter, who puts it on his card explaining to Michelle that Mr. Roberts reimburses everything. 

They walk out of the store, Peter holding two bags in each hand with ease, Michelle wondering how strong he really is, wondering how his arms look under the layers of long sleeves, never having paid attention to Peter aside from his incessant jolliness until Mr. Roberts paired them up last Monday. 

“We can drop this off at my place,” he says, “then keep shopping.” 

She pauses for a second, wondering what on earth they have to keep shopping for. He turns around, a few steps ahead of her. “We need to get you your first holiday sweater.” 

Michelle keeps walking, the low temperatures suddenly warm against her heart. 

_We could do a lot more things together, if he wants._

After stopping by Peter’s apartment, they make their way to several stores, hoping to find the perfect sweater for Michelle. 

“I’m going to look so weird,” she comments as they wiggle through a crowd of customers taking advantage of department store sales. 

“Maybe we can find you a Grinch sweater,” he jokes, grabbing hangers with different sweaters on it – all red and green and white with snowflakes and gingerbread men. 

“Those don’t look like the Grinch,” she peeks over his shoulder, resting her chin on him for a beat knowing that she’s crossing uncharted territory. Peter turns around, hesitant and nervous. 

He hands her four sweaters. “Try these on.” 

They make their way to the dressing room, Peter sitting on a bench as he waits for her to come out with the different options. The first was a blue cropped sweater, with a pattern of snowflakes spread around it, and the material makes Michelle incredibly itchy. They both shake their head, agreeing to try other ones on. 

When they get to the last option, a red sweater dress mimicking Santa’s outfit, Peter lights up. It’s strange, the way this felt like the most important thing Michelle’s had to dress for. It’s even stranger that she feels excited to don on holiday-themed attire, not remembering the last time she felt so festive. 

It’s like being around Peter enhances the holiday spirit. She’s not surprised, having seen him walk in on December 1st with lights around his neck and bells bouncing with each step. Michelle was afraid before, to be around someone whose energy is high. But it only lifts her up, too. 

Peter’s fun. He makes her fun. Happy. 

“That’s the one,” he says dramatically, like they’re in _Say Yes to the Dress_. 

“I look like Mrs. Claus.” 

“That’s the point!” 

“I cannot step into the office wearing this,” she looks down at her outfit. 

“Everyone’s going to be wearing something like that.” 

“And what if they don’t?”

“Then you’ll win the contest.” 

“Peter,” she almost whines, nervous about the idea of being the only one to show up in theme. 

“You know I’ll be wearing a sweater!” 

“Fine,” she shuts the dressing door behind her, changing back into her outfit before walking out. “I can’t believe what you’ve turned me into.” 

“A Christmas lover?” 

“Not quite,” she stops him. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Pete.” 

They reach the register, the salesman in the elf costume greeting them with a soft smile. “You know these coming in a matching set.” 

“Hm?” Peter asks.

The elf scans the sweater. “It’s a couple set. There’s a Mr. Claus one, if you’d like to match with your girlfriend.” 

Michelle snorts. Peter’s ears turn red, scratching the back of his neck. “Oh, um, she–” 

“Would love to see the sweater,” Michelle interrupts, smirking and scheming. 

“Give me one second,” the elf salesman walks away. 

Peter looks at Michelle. “What are you doing?” 

“You have to match with me,” she states casually. “Come on, we worked on this entire thing together. We have to show it off. As a team.”

The salesman comes back with the sweater, presenting it with a smile so wide, Michelle leaning towards Peter’s ear and whispering, “You have to get it.” 

Peter sighs. “Fine. For you.” 

“Hm, I feel like I suddenly love Christmas a little more after this purchase,” Michelle adds as they walk out of the store. Peter shakes his head. 

“You better be loving Christmas,” he adds. “This is the third sweater I bought this year.”

“Is Christmas getting _too much_ for Peter Parker?” she teases. 

“Never,” he says. “Not when I can see you falling in love with it by the second.” 

“Maybe the holidays have a point.” 

  1. _Decide on Catering (With Takeout and a Cheesy Movie)_



The overcast sky transitions into a dim, blue glow as the temperatures drop lower. Michelle wishes she could grab Peter’s hand. She also wishes the day wouldn’t end. But it’s coming to a close as they make their way to Peter’s apartment again. 

There they stood, in front of his building, facing one another with the same look. 

“I still–” 

“Did you want–” 

They laugh at their timing. Michelle urges Peter to talk first. “I still owe you dinner. For working on a weekend.” 

“Right,” she shoves her hands in the pocket of her coat. “I was just going to say if you still wanted to… work on stuff.” 

“Like what?” 

“Like making me fall in love with Christmas.”

“Over dinner?” 

“And maybe one of those movies you say you love so much.” 

“Hallmark movies!” he recalls their conversation. A beat. “Did you want to come in?” 

“Sure,” she waves her hand for Peter to lead the way into his building. 

HIs apartment is snug, semi-clean, and completely like him. There’s a dainty Christmas tree in the corner by the patio door with a couple of presents dressed at the bottom, Michelle guessing they’re for Peter’s aunt. She takes off her shoes and hangs her coat on the chair at the dinner table.

“Cozy,” she comments. He hands her menus for options. 

They decide on pho, and Peter puts on a Netflix movie – not Hallmark. But there’s still holiday magic tropes that make MJ snort and spill pho broth onto her sweater as they watch the movie on the couch, soup bowls placed on the coffee table. 

“Crap,” she says, grabbing napkins to wipe the broth from her shirt. “This is going to stain.” 

“That’s what you get for laughing at holiday magic,” Peter says, getting up and walking to his room, returning with a hoodie for Michelle. 

“Oh, no, it’s okay,” she sputters. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, just take it,” he insists. She grabs the hoodie, swapping out of her pho-spilled sweater and putting on what Michelle thinks is Peter’s old high school sweater. 

“Thanks.” He coughs, finally turning back around, Michelle not realizing she’d just changed in front of Peter without question. “Sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” his breath hitches. The voice of the characters from the movie fills the silence between them. 

She focuses back on her soup. “This is good.” 

“Shit,” Peter panics. “We haven’t decided catering.” 

“Does this restaurant do catering?” She grabs the To-Go menu on the coffee table, pointing out the catering options to Peter. “Problem solved.” 

“Great,” he says, pausing the movie to clean up their trash, the smell of broth filling the apartment, making the ambiance of his living room more cozy. Like home. 

He sits back next to her, this time closer than before, their thighs touching as he plays the movie again. Peter’s arm is thrown behind her, resting on the back of the couch. 

She leans into his chest, burrowing a space next to him. “It’s cold.” 

“Yeah,” he agrees, his arm moving to wrap around her. Their bodies touch like it’s normal, like it’s a thing that happens every evening after a long day of buying decorations and matching sweaters. They shift with each other in synchronized motions, Michelle snuggling tighter into him. She can feel his muscles even with a thick layer of a sweater in between them, and it makes Michelle want to turn off the movie and jump on him.

But cuddling’s nice, too. So nice that Michelle feels the droop in her eyes get heavier, stomach full of soup and body exhausted from walking all day.

Peter’s phone rings, waking her up and untangling her arms that somehow made their way around his waist. She lets go as he blinks himself awake, rubbing his eyes. 

The movie’s long past over, the home screen of Netflix emitting from his TV. 

“May?” he answers the phone, his voice groggy and rough. “Yeah, still on for tomorrow. Love you.” He hangs up, turning to face Michelle. “Hey.”

“Hi,” she whispers. “I should go. It’s late.” 

“Yeah, yeah of course. Do you need me to walk you home?” 

She wants to say yes. In fact, she wishes she could just _stay_ , blaming the feeling on the spirit of holiday magic from the Netflix movie they were watching or the fact that they’d spent the entire day surrounded by the spirit of love.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll call an Uber.” 

“Okay.”

  
  


Michelle lays in bed that night gripping onto the cotton of Peter’s hoodie, but she keeps that secret to herself as she falls into a deep slumber. 

  1. _Work Overtime (Unpaid) by Making and Setting Up Decorations – Try not to Fall for Your Slightly Alcoholic, Hyper-Festive, Cheesy Co-Worker_



When the work week starts, Michelle spends the first half of it trying her best to not talk to Peter. She had woken up that Sunday feeling hesitant of having such strong feelings for someone she knew was naturally kind to everyone he knew, and that Michelle was just another person in Peter’s life that he was affectionate with. 

She’s worked with him for three months now, and she’s well aware of how kind he is, how talkative and sweet – a 180 from how she works in the office. She’s had a rough time adjusting to a work culture that prides itself in a family-oriented setting; she knows whatever spark she feels between her and Peter is premature. 

But of course, what she believes is a subtle tactic in avoiding Peter Parker doesn’t go unnoticed. 

He stops her at the end of their work day on Wednesday. “Hey!” 

She takes a deep breath, tells herself to avoid looking at him right in his sparkly eyes, and turns around. “What’s up Parker?”

“Been a busy work week?” he asks with the utmost understanding tone she’s ever heard, making her feel foolish that Peter would ever be frustrated at the way she’s been deliberately avoiding him. 

“Something like that,” she lies, guilt washing over her. 

“Me too,” he opens the double doors of the office. “We should get started on those decorations though, and put them in the office.”

“Right,” she says, and the guilt within her causes her to do the most idiotic thing she could ever do. “We can make them at my house tomorrow night.” 

“Great,” his smile perks up, Michelle still avoiding the way the sides of his eyes crinkle, even though she knows it’s there. “See you later, Grinch.” 

She scoffs, hand on chest as if she felt offended. “Christmas lover.” 

“That’s what they call me,” he skips away. 

Dammit. 

“This is the best hot chocolate I’ve ever had,” Peter sips on Cindy’s special salted caramel mocha. 

Cindy hands another mugful to Michelle. “Thanks, Peter. It’s practically the only thing MJ likes about the Christmas season.” 

He smirks at Michelle. “Well, if I wasn’t fond of Christmas like _MJ,”_ he teases, “this would be the one thing I’d like, too.”

She delivers a playful touch to his shoulder, Peter faking a giant injury. They’re sprawled on the living room floor, poster papers and construction papers scattered around the entire living room. 

“I can’t believe we’ve come this far,” Michelle comments. “You really put in work to make me fall in love with this damn holiday.” 

“So you are? In love?” he eyes brighten.

“It’s tolerable. We’ll see how it all pans out tomorrow.” 

“Ah, yes, the final boss level.” 

“So what are we making?” she sips her mug, overwhelmed by the tinsel and glitter that she’s going to have to clean up after this whole thing is over. Then, she thinks about _this_ being over and nearly chugs her steaming hot chocolate to distract her from the sadness of no longer spending time with Peter. 

“Snowflakes, mistletoes, and candy canes. Shouldn’t be hard,” he puts his hands on his hips. 

“Let’s get started,” she says as she dives into the work. 

Peter’s incredibly impressive when it comes to origami and different kinds of crafts, mostly due to the fact that he’s spent the past couple of years devoted to this holiday tradition. Michelle’s falling behind, trying to keep up with the paper doves he’s making to hang on the ceiling. 

He shrugs. “I have good precision? And May always makes me help with scrapbooking.” 

“You and your aunt are super close,” she smiles. 

“We only have each other,” he states, Michelle almost heartbroken at how casually he brings this up. She puts her hand on top of his as he’s folding another dove.

“You’re a great nephew,” she caresses his knuckles with her thumb, Peter putting his other hand on top of Michelle’s. “And person.” 

“Thanks,” he mimics her thumb. It’s electric, the faint sound of the radiator intensifying. A beat. “You’re a wonderful person, too.”

She shakes her head. 

“Seriously,” he says, moving his hand to her shoulder. “You may not show it, but I see it. Promise.” 

Michelle looks down at the half folded doves. “Thanks.” 

He puts his hand on her chin, lifting up her head. “You’re welcome.” 

  
  


“Okay, I don’t know how to cut this damn snowflake,” she grumbles in frustration. 

“It’s easy!” he claims, inching closer to her, thighs touching. He loops his warm hands with hers as he helps her with the scissors. “You just trace.” 

“I love making you do the work for me,” she feigns a devilish laugh. 

“You’re evil,” he shakes his head. “That’s why your hands are so cold all the time, isn’t it?”

She shrugs. He grabs her hands again, rubbing it against his, creating a friction that warms her palms and her heart. 

“There,” he says, plopping his hands down. “Gave you a little holiday magic.” 

“Just what I needed from you,” she winks. Peter blushes, scratching the back of his neck – it’s a kind of nervousness that Michelle wants to see more often, an inner desire to observe how he reacts around her. 

She’s intrigued by him, a little crush ignited within her soul, knowing now it’s not just the holiday spirit, but Peter Parker himself. 

“I think we’re all done,” he stands up, knees cracking from his poor posture when working on the decorations. 

“Great,” she says. “To the office?”

“To the office.” 

They borrow Cindy’s car, loading all the decorations in the trunk. They may have gone overboard, and Michelle blames the way Peter’s sucked her into this damn holiday. 

Once they reach the office, they double park outside the double doors, transferring all the doves, candy canes, snowflakes, and mistletoe into the hallway. 

Michelle yawns, realizing it’s past midnight. 

“Let’s hurry this up,” she shivers. 

“Can’t rush art,” he carries all of the decorations into their office. “But I can take it from here, _MJ_.” 

She rolls her eyes. “What kind of partner do you think I am to leave you all alone in the final boss level?” 

He chuckles. “Nice.” 

They let the doves hang from the ceiling, they pin the candy canes above the table that’ll be used for refreshments, and they tape the Pin the Red Nose on Rudolph game in the foyer. The cubicles, other than Michelle’s, provide personal decorations from each employee. They pin a white sheet on their largest wall and prepare the projector to put Christmas movies on loop throughout the entire day. 

Once they’re done, Michelle sees Peter spinning in her office chair at her cubicle. He ruffles through their last bag of decorations and sets one single decoration, a stuffed Grinch, on top of her computer. 

“I can’t believe you.” she shakes her head.

“You sure?”

“You’re right, I completely believe you.” 

“And you know how the Grinch ends, right?” 

“Yes, Peter. I know How the Grinch Stole Christmas ends.” 

“Good,” he lifts himself up. “Now, just the mistletoes.” 

He picks different open doorways to tape their makeshift mistletoes, Michelle refusing to commit to the tradition of kissing someone underneath one. It’s perhaps the cheesiest one of all. 

“No one ever does this, but it’s part of the Cheesy theme,” Peter extends his arm for Michelle to grab him the scotch tape. She walks over, watching him attach the last mistletoe in their bag of decorations. His arms are flexed, nearly poking out of his sweater. When he sets his arms down, he looks at Michelle, laughing. 

“What?”

“We’re under it,” he states.

“Funny.” A beat. “Good thing no one ever does this.”

“You’re right,” he snaps himself out of his visible trance. They make their way to Cindy’s car. 

  
  


They’re on their way to Peter’s apartment, the car silent. “Wait,” he says. “I left my work stuff at your place. I can just walk from there.” 

“Alright,” she makes a turn for her place instead, the lack of music causing her to replay the scene in her head, memorizing the way Peter almost leaned in to her lips. She should’ve done the same. 

She unlocks her door, Peter rushing to his backpack, shuffling around. Michelle’s not sure if the red glow on his cheeks were from the cold or from the way she had backed away from him. She thinks it’s the latter, more regret filling up in her gut. How could she deny the twists in her stomach as Peter locked eyes with her? 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says, walking out of her apartment. “Don’t forget the matching sweater, Mrs. Claus.”

“Sure, Mr. Claus.” she pulls a tight, toothless grin, slowly closing the door, an inch of her wanting him to not walk away as she softly closes her front door. But this is real life, and not a cheesy Christmas movie. If she wanted something to happen, she had to take control of herself and her decisions. 

Michelle doesn’t miss a beat, swinging the door open again to chase after him. To her surprise, Peter’s there, outside her door, about to knock.

“Oh,” she stutters, shuffling her feet the minute she locks eyes on him. 

“I,” he starts… “These two weeks have been really great and I kind of don’t want it to end.” 

“Me neither.”

They lock eyes, underneath the doorframe of her apartment, and although there’s no mistle toe pasted above them, they both crash against each other’s lips, Michelle wrapping her arms around Peter’s neck and he does the same with her waist.

Peter’s lips are warm and slightly chapped, the taste of salted caramel hot chocolate still lingering in his mouth. He slips his tongue inside her mouth, soft but wanting more. She brings one of her hands to his cheek, thumbing his face.

They release from the kiss that’s been two weeks in the making. 

He smiles at her, his smile piercing through her heart in a way that warms her entire body. 

“I’ll just… I’ll see you tomorrow,” he grins.

“Yeah,” she stammers, eyes watering with joy. 

“Goodnight, Michelle.”

“Goodnight, Peter.” 

  1. _Enjoy the Party, and Somehow, Maybe Fall (for Christmas)_



Their office works a half day, lunch turning into the beginning of the party that Michelle and Peter worked tirelessly on for the last two weeks. And if Peter and Michelle spent the first half of their day stealing glances with rosy cheeks and clichéd grins, that was between them and only them. 

Catering comes an hour into their party, the smell of pho making the entire office fill with comfort and warmth. 

“Don’t spill,” Peter teases, as they both share Michelle’s desk to eat their lunch. “I don’t have an extra sweater for you.”

“It’s okay,” she sips on the broth. “I still have your hoodie.” 

“You can keep it,” he grins, playing with the noodles in his to-go bowl. 

“I was going to anyway,” she shrugs. 

Felicia walks up to them, wearing a sweater with a grumpy cat dressed in Christmas attire. “Nice matching sweaters.” 

“Thanks,” both Peter and Michelle say at the same time. 

“You both did a great job, I guess,” she shrugs, walking away.

“You know that’s a great compliment coming from Felicia,” he laughs, whispering in Michelle’s ear.

“I figured.” 

After their dinner, as soon as Peter’s finished walking around with a trash bag to clean up the food, their entire office part takes in different games filling up the time before the sun goes down and it’s not too early for them to break out the alcoholic eggnog and Fireball shots. 

Michelle’s buzzing, eyes fixated on the projection of _Home Alone_ as her stomach buzzes with the mixed drinks Peter’s made for her. 

“You really know your drinks, Parker,” she jokes. 

He sips on his beer. “I _am_ an avid drinker. According to you.” He lifts his beer bottle, clinking it with her plastic cup of Kahlua and creamer. 

Mr. Roberts finishes up with his turn of Pin the Red Nose on Rudolph, taking his blindfold off and seeing the red nose pinned on Rudolph’s hooves. He shrugs, making his way to Michelle and Peter. 

“Great planning,” he sips on his eggnog. “I ought to give you both a raise.” 

Peter nudges her shoulder, Michelle giggling at their boss’s lack of sobriety. 

“Couldn’t have done this without Michelle,” Peter smiles. 

“You know, Peter really sold me on the spirit of the holidays.” 

“That’s great,” Mr. Roberts slurs. “Peter has that effect on people, doesn’t he?” 

“Yeah,” she says, “definitely.” 

“We should get started on the White Elephant game!” Mr. Roberts yells, making his way to the front of the office. 

“So,” Peter turns to her. “How’s the first holiday party working out for you?” 

“Everything you said it would be like,” she chuckles. 

“I _am_ a pro at this,” he finishes the last ounce of his beer. 

Mr. Roberts gathers the office’s attention, ready to start the White Elephant. Gwen has to walk over, assisting him in translating whatever mixture of slobbery phrases he’s saying. And for the first time since she’s started working here, Michelle feels at peace with her co-workers, proud of everything she’s accomplished with Peter in the past two weeks. 

  
  


They make their way out of the office after cleaning up, arms looped with one another’s after turning a block – not yet ready to reveal whatever was going on between them to their co-workers. 

“So, did I do it?” Peter looks at her, eyes hopeful.

“Do what?”

“Make you fall in love?” he grins. Her stomach twists, knowing that although he’s speaking about Christmas, she’s thinking of something else. 

“Yeah, I definitely fell in love,” she says, feeling the holiday magic wrap around her more than ever. Like the Grinch, her heart’s increased in size, feeling extremely cliché in the references she’s making. 

She unloops her arms, facing him. She places a soft kiss on his lips, her hand pressed on his chin. “With Christmas, of course.”

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter: @spideysmj / Tumblr: @briens


End file.
